Of Sweatshirts and Talks over a Kitchen Counter
by Write-To-You
Summary: Peter comes home after defeating the Vulture to find Michelle waiting for him, ready to patch him up. (WARNING: Characters may be extremely OOC, because Michelle Jones is literally the hardest character to write, of all time, period.) Michelle Jones isn't a character tag, but she's obviously in this.


**Author's Note: I AM WRITING PETER AND MJ FANFICTION!**

 **'** **Bout time, amiright?! I've loved these two since I watched the cartoons, and now we have the perfect actors and personalities for both of them! Love Homecoming SO MUCH :D**

After defeating (and saving the life of) Liz's father AKA the Vulture AKA Spiderman's first nemesis, Peter Parker was not expecting to see Michelle Jones sitting at his desk.

She was wearing that same dress she had to Homecoming, a light yellow, but now it was covered with a bulky sweatshirt. Peter realized it was his and his eyebrows jumped. Her hair was now down, and she raised an eyebrow when he crawled through his window and collapsed on the floor.

He realized there was only about a .2 percent chance that she would leave his house _not_ knowing he was Spiderman, considering he had just gotten into his room through a fourth story window and was _literally wearing his suit_. But it _was_ the old dinky one, and it was late. There was always the possibility she was tired and-

"Don't even start, Parker," Michelle said before he could say a word. "I've known you were Spiderman since you told Ned."

Peter blinked. "Oh... oh. Okay. What... what exactly are you doing here?"

Michelle spun his desk chair around, revealing a compact first aid kit on her lap. "I got bored at Homecoming and started watching the news. When I saw the plane that crashed and the webs on all that equipment, plus how you ran out on Liz during the dance... I figured you may need some help when you got home." She eyed him up and down, not looking impressed. "I would have brought more bandaids if I knew it'd be this bad."

Peter huffed, pushing himself slowly up from the floor and snagging his pajamas from his carpet. He eased himself down on his bed and pulled off his sweatshirt, a little awkward with Michelle inspecting him but needing to get the disgusting, dirty object off.

Michelle whistled. "You look like you got hit by a bus," she commented.

Peter's lips twitched. "Not a bus... but crashing a plane into a beach while you're hanging on to the outside will do that to you."

Michelle shrugged in acknowledgment. "Fair," she agreed. "Before I take a look at you you need to take a shower."

Peter pouted. He was dead on his feet, and just wanted to fall asleep and worry about everything tomorrow. But Michelle gave him a look. "Do you _want_ all your open wounds to get infected and start pussing? No. I didn't think so. Hit the showers, Pete."

Peter started to get up before falling back with a groan. "What about Aunt May?" he asked. "She'll hear the shower turning on." He paused. "How did you even get in here?"

"I called her using Ned's phone," Michelle shrugged. "Told her you were going to stay the night with him. She told me to tell you that she was going to see Lila and that she'd be back by noon tomorrow."

"Ned's phone... oh _no_ , my stuff!" Pete planted his head in his hands, resisting the urge to cry. "I rented that suit- May's gonna kill me. How will I even explain-"

There was a soft thump and Peter looked up. A neatly folded stack of black dress clothes was lying on the bed beside him.

"I found it outside the lockers," Michelle explained. "And I figured you would probably want it back."

Peter's eyes were wide with wonder and he looked at Michelle with a new light. "Michelle Jones... you are actually really spectacular."

Michelle smirked. "Of course I am. And my friends call me MJ."

"I thought you didn't have any friends?"

Michelle smiled. "Then what are you?"

They looked at each other for awhile in silence before Michelle nodded her head at the door. "Shower," she ordered, and Peter pulled himself up from his bed to do as he was told.

He was a limp figure of heavy eyelids, wet hair and dead weight limbs by the time he got out of the shower. Parts of him he didn't even know it was possible to feel were aching, and he almost wished that Michelle wasn't still going to be waiting for him when he got back to his room.

She was still there, sitting in his chair and reading a book, which she closed when he walked in. "All clean now?" she asked dryly. "Open wounds de-pussed?"

"Ha ha, very funny," Peter mumbled, sitting down heavily on his bed.

Michelle got up and plopped her med kit down next to him. "Alright, Peter. What hurts the most?"

"Is everything a fair answer?"

"No."

Peter was silent.

"Fine," Michelle sighed. "What do you want me to look at the most?"

"My back, I suppose," Peter sighed. He slowly pulled off his pajama shirt and laid down on his stomach.

When Michelle saw his back, she let out a very loud swear. "Holy- Peter... you need to go to a hospital. This looks really bad."

"It'll be fine by tomorrow," Peter mumbled into his pillow. He shrugged, ignoring the ache it caused. "Super healing."

"Convenient," Michelle muttered, and reached for her med kit.

She started by disinfecting all of open cuts on his back. She knew that he had just taken a shower (and had hopefully used soap), but her father was a doctor and he always told her that normal cleaners weren't enough for the germs that got into a cut.

Peter hissed when her cotton ball, doused with antiseptic, hit his back. "Easy there, Tiger," Michelle told him, putting a hand on his shoulder blade to stop him from squirming. "It's going to hurt a lot less in the long run."

She didn't have a needle or thread, or any sort of qualifications to give Peter stitches, so she just had to hope that bandaids and super-healing would do the trick.

"So, care to tell me what happened to get your back in such a mess?" Michelle asked casually, putting her fifth bandaid on Peter, just to the left of his spine. His back was covered in cuts and terrible, rectangular shaped bruises. Michelle honestly wouldn't be surprised if he had a couple of bruised ribs, too.

"Well..." Peter seemed hesitant to talk, his words muffled by the pillow. Michelle wasn't sure if it was because he was exhausted or if he just didn't want to tell her. "So, see, I confronted Li- um, the Vulture, and followed him to this warehouse building place."

He turned over so he could speak more clearly, not quite meeting her eyes and wincing as he moved. "So... yeah... he kind of used his wing-blade things and cut all the pillars in the warehouse? So the entire building fell on top of me... and that was basically it."

Michelle raised her eyebrows. "So... how are you not dead?" she asked bluntly.

"I... got out, I guess," Peter shrugged. "So can I sleep now or do you still want to look me over? Honestly, Michelle, I really do appreciate the... well, you coming and everything, but passing out and letting my body heal has worked every other time."

"Whatever." Michelle shrugged, not wanting to give away the fact that she was worried about him. It was this weird thing that happened to her... some sort of feminine instinct that kicked in whenever someone was hurt. It may have also helped that her father was a doctor. Maybe it was just in her blood, she didn't really know, but seeing Peter with a split lip and cuts and bruises all over his body was making her feel things she didn't like to feel.

Peter nodded. "So... we're good?" He yawned, eyelids heavy and already starting to slide shut.

"Yeah." Michelle patted his shoulder. "See you on Monday, Peter."

Still wearing his sweatshirt, she turned around and started to leave the room. Michelle was tired, and she honestly didn't feel like walking all the way back home in her ridiculous, toe-pinching yellow heels and knee-length dress. She thought she'd keep the sweatshirt.

"Michelle?" Peter said before she left the room completely.

She paused and turned back around, wondering if her had come up with another injury for her to examine.

"You can... stay the night, if you'd like," Peter invited awkwardly. "The couch in the living room is a pull-out. I'd offer you my bed but... not tonight."

"Wouldn't accept it, anyway," Michelle told him honestly. "Thanks, Parker. See you in the morning."

She didn't have any pajamas, so she just took off her dress and wore Peter's sweatshirt. He was shorter than she was, unfortunately, but she was more legs and he was more torso, so the sweatshirt came about a quarter of the way down her thigh.

Setting her alarm for 6:30, (which was much earlier than she wanted considering the current time) Michelle knew she'd have enough time to put her dress back on, fold Peter's sweatshirt, and get out of the Parkers' house before Aunt May got home or Peter woke up.

Before she curled up on the couch, which she didn't have the energy to pull out and fix into a bed, she sent a text to her dad. _'Staying at a friends, be back tomorrow morning. Don't question it if I'm wearing the same dress.'_

She didn't wait for his response, knowing he was probably already asleep and not terribly worried about where she was.

Michelle laid down on the couch, tucking her legs into Peter's sweatshirt and hoping she didn't stretch it out too much. She pulled down the blanket that was draped over the back of the couch and bundled under it, eyes shutting and falling asleep in seconds.

There was already a little bit of sunlight coming through the living room window when Michelle was woken up by her alarm. She blinked blearily up at the ceiling, wondering why she was lying on a strange couch in an unfamiliar room, before she woke up a little more and recalled the events of last night.

Michelle sat up slowly, shutting off her alarm and glancing towards Peter's door, hoping it hadn't woken him up. She found that it was open, and frowned. Hadn't she closed it the night before? She had been so tired she couldn't quite remember.

To her surprise, when she got to her feet and headed toward the kitchen to get to the bathroom so she could put her dress back on, she found Peter sitting on a barstool pushed up to the counter. His eyes were ringed dark purple-blue with exhaustion and his cheek was propped on one hand.

"You look like a zombie," Michelle commented, and Peter jumped, glancing up sharply.

He relaxed when he saw it was her. "Oh, good morning, Michel- MJ, sorry. Sleep well?"

"You don't look like you did," Michelle pointed out, leaning on the counter across from him.

Peter shrugged. "I slept like a rock for at least five hours... or maybe I was unconscious, who knows. But then I woke up and... well. Things happened last night. There was a lot to think about."

"Yeah," Michelle said. "Winning a battle against a super villain really does cause some inner self-reflection."

Peter frowned, unsure if she was being sarcastic or not. "I don't know if I was really thinking about that, exactly..."

"Kidding, Peter," Michelle sighed. "You text Liz to apologize for running out on her last night?"

Peter gulped. "Oh shoot, no" he muttered. "Oh shoot shoot shoot." He let out a deep sigh, slumping forward to rest his hand on his palm again. "I really screwed up, didn't I?"

"Yep."

"I've ruined all my chances of ever being with her," Peter continued, ignoring her and continuing to bemoan his bad luck. "If I could just tell her I'm the Spider-Man, she'd understand everything, about tonight, and the Decathlon, and her party, and all the other times I acted weird or left suddenly."

Michelle crossed her arms. She would never admit it, but the moment she saw Peter hiding a book under his desk and reading during Spanish class she had basically fallen in love with him. At that point he barely knew her name and never spent any time with her save for Decathlon practice and lunch (which really didn't count because they rarely ever spoke to each other, even though they were at the same table). It was one of the reasons why she was here, standing in his kitchen and wearing his sweatshirt. She wondered if Liz would have been willing to come to his apartment at 11:30 at night and look after him. She liked to think she wouldn't.

"Why don't you just tell her, then?" Michelle snapped. "You've told Ned. I'm sure she wouldn't be totally surprised. It certainly clears up a lot of things, which is why I figured it out."

"I can't," Peter sighed. He glanced up at her, eyes large. "Can you keep a secret?"

"I've kept yours," Michelle reminded him. "So... probably better than you."

Peter's lips twitched. "That's fair," he admitted. "Last night, when I went to meet Liz so we could go to Homecoming together... I found out that he -The Vulture, I mean- is Liz's dad."

Michelle's eyebrows went way up on her forehead. "Wow," was all she could manage. "I honestly did _not_ see that one coming."

A part of her was stupidly, pettily satisfied that Miss Perfect Liz's father was now a captured villain. Then she felt a surge of guilt. Liz had never done anything to her before, except for unintentionally steal the boy she had pined over for the past two years with a single smile.

Michelle sighed. Even if this _did_ put Liz out of the picture, it didn't mean Peter was suddenly going to be hers. And when did she start caring about boys and dating and all of those juvenile things? She was a _sophomore_ , for goodness sakes. She had more to her life then a crush on a guy.

"Yeah, I know," Peter was saying, completely unaware of what was going on inside Michelle's head. "He figured out I was Spider-Man on the car ride to school... Liz was going on and on about how I kept missing all these things, like her party and the Decathlon and stuff, and I guess he just kind of put it together. He sent Liz in to the dance first and then gave me this super threatening talk about how he would kill me and everyone I loved if I didn't leave him alone. The only reason he didn't kill me then and there was because I had saved Liz's life in Washington."

"Yeesh," Michelle muttered. "These guys are intense."

"I know," Peter agreed, wrinkling his nose. "I followed him anyway, though. I really didn't want to. When we got to the dance and I saw Liz and Ned and you all in there, acting like normal teenagers at a normal Homecoming... I wanted so much to go in and experience that with you guys. But I just couldn't, you know? It's like I said when Tony Stark met me for the first time: it's when you have the power to do something and you don't that the bad things happen."

The name registered. "Holy crap, you've met Tony Stark?" Michelle gaped. "The Stark Internship is a real thing?"

"All of that, and _that_ is what you get out of it?" Peter said, shaking his head.

In truth, Michelle had gotten another part out of it; the part about when he saw Liz and Ned _and her_ at Homecoming. It was a nice thought, that part of his not wanting to go fight the bad guy was because of her.

"Well, it's a wise quote and all that," Michelle said instead. "But Tony Stark is a bit more exciting."

Peter shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so. The point is... Liz already hates me, but she'll hate me even more if she finds out that I was the one that put her father in jail."

Michelle nodded; she understood. Peter looked up at her with hopeful eyes. "You don't happen to... have any ideas? On how to make this better? Michelle, you're the only female in the world that knows I'm Spider-Man. If I go to Ned for girl help I'm probably going to end up regretting it majorly. _Please_?"

"I cannot believe we are having this conversation right now," Michelle muttered, her usual tone of deprecating, unfeeling, and sarcastic turning back on. She shrugged, crossing her arms and leaning over the kitchen table. "Look, Pete, I'm sure you've heard the saying that there are a lot of fish in the sea."

"Isn't that usually to talk about guys?"

"I don't know, I guess," Michelle replied. "Point being, you're going to find someone eventually. Maybe just consider telling her your secret before you go and lock up her father?"

Peter groaned, loudly, and planted his head down on his arms. "What if I don't _want_ to like someone new?" he complained. "I liked having a crush on Liz. Things were actually going somewhere! Then I had to go and be the hero and ruin everything."

Michelle flinched. So, there it was. He liked Liz, wanted to like Liz, didn't want to like anyone new, and probably never would.

There went her chances.

She straightened up. "Look, Parker, I'm not your relationship counselor," she snapped. "You don't want to move on, then fine. But I'm sure there are plenty of other girls out there that would be interested in you."

He shook his head. "Thanks, MJ, but it's not likely-"

Michelle slammed her hands down on the counter. " _Yes_ , it's likely!" she yelled. "If you'd just remove your eyes from Liz's perfect little being for _one second_ and take a look around for once, you might see someone who is _very_ interesting in you!"

Michelle stormed toward the front door, grabbing her dress on the way. There was no way she was changing here; she'd just have to find another place to do it so she didn't show up wearing nothing but her underwear and a boy's sweatshirt. To think that all of this had started with her sitting in Peter's bedroom, worrying over him for a half hour until he showed up in a worse state then she had even imagined.

Apparently this was the thanks she got for trying to help.

So what? If Peter didn't want to like anyone but Liz then that was his problem. He was the one missing out.

Her eyes started to burn and Michelle took a shaky breath, willing herself not to cry as she reached for the door handle.

A hand clamped down on hers. Michelle spun, eyes blazing, to find Peter on centimeter's from her.

"Wait, Michelle," he murmured. "I didn't... I never thought. I didn't know. What I said was so insensitive and I'm really sorry."

Michelle looked down. "Whatever," she muttered. "It doesn't matter. This is all really stupid."

Peter shook his head. "It's not stupid," he murmured. "You could never be stupid, Michelle Jones."

Michelle licked her lips, glancing up at his eyes and then looking away again. "I should go," she whispered. "I'll see you on Monday, Peter."

He nodded, letting go of her hand and allowing her to open up the door and step outside.

Michelle let out the breath she didn't know she was holding when the door swung closed. She shivered at the cool 7:00AM air and began to walk towards home, pulling Peter's sweatshirt tighter around her.

For the first time all morning, Michelle smiled. She wondered what everyone's reaction would be when she showed up at lunch on Monday morning and handed Peter his own sweatshirt.

Who knew what would happen next?

 **Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed! Maybe a little more random than I had hope for? but let me know if you want me to write some more Peterchelle (is that there ship name?) stories and, if so, what they should be about :)**


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